Chasing Us: A Second Chance Love Triangle (Dark Love Series Book 2)

I have every email answered and every meeting scheduled and prepared. The stationery holder on my desk is perfectly organized—I have exactly eighty-two paperclips in that holder—and I even cleaned my keyboard, removing each key and wiping it down.

This is what happens when you work seventy-two hours straight with no sleep.

By Thursday, I’m losing my mind, bored and demotivated. I need a distraction, anything to wake me from this miserable life I’m currently living. My phone buzzes, and I check the caller ID. I let out a small laugh at the name gracing the screen.

“Dude, it’s me.”

There’s only one person in my life who calls me ‘dude.’

 “Wait, did Nikki give you permission to call me?”

“Funny, Edwards. Listen, we haven’t organized a bachelor party for Elijah.”

“Rocky, Elijah isn’t one of those pussy-watching types of guys,” I tell him, bursting his pornographic bubble. “You saw him squirming at the strip club.”

“Of course, you’d say that, he’s marrying your sister. Listen, Adriana told me Saturday night is his only free night. Vegas… are you up for it?”

Normally, I’d have hung up on him ages ago. Actually, I probably wouldn’t have answered his call to begin with. But I have grown accustomed to somewhat enjoying his company and being around other men for non-business purposes. I hadn’t done this since college, and that feels like a lifetime ago.

“I’m in.”

“Great! All right, so Adriana suggests Elijah’s cousin and two college buddies plus your dad.”

“My dad?”

My dad is the last person I want to see right now. I can’t even recall the last time we spoke.

“Yeah, why not? Adriana tells me he’s young at heart.”

“Look, whatever.” I ignore it, knowing that arguing with him is futile. “Okay, so what have you organized?”

“Nothing. Was hoping you could pull some strings?”

“Leave it to me.”

We end the call minutes later after the conversation went stale because Rocky starts talking about some European movie. I pull out my contacts list and call George, the owner of a few hotels in Vegas. Calling in a favor, I book the penthouse suite mentioning the occasion. He says he’ll take care of the rest. Done in one conversation, just the way I like it.

I fly over to Vegas but not without Adriana giving me a lecture on appropriate bachelor party behavior. She went on and on, and luckily, I was forced to board the plane giving me an excuse to end the call.

We arrive at the Palms early Saturday afternoon. George outdid himself again, pimping out the suite with everything you could possibly imagine. Topless waitresses stand at the door taking our jackets, offering us drinks, and basically anything else we want. As Elijah walks in behind me, his face cringes as he avoids looking at the tits on parade.

“Okay, so why the Elvis costume?”

Scratching my head, his sequins shine back at me like I’m watching a burlesque show.

“He’s the King, and we are in Vegas.”

“Okay, so again, why the Elvis costume?”

“Because I’ve always wanted to dress up as him, and seriously, I can’t do this in Brooklyn.” He shakes his head in disbelief as another waitress attempts to serve us a shot. “When I caught wind that you were planning it, I didn’t expect this.”

The response does not satisfy me, but hey, his prerogative, I guess. We make our way to the bar and sit on the stools waiting for the rest of the party to turn up. Over the next hour, four of Elijah’s college friends arrive as well as two of his cousins. He does the introductions, and they are a laid-back bunch, not as geeky as I expected, except for the one dressed up in some sci-fi costume. When the hell did this become a costume party? It isn’t long after that my father arrives.

“Andrew, I’m glad you could make it.”

Elijah shakes his hand as my dad eyes him up and down, amused by his attire.

“How could I miss my favorite son-in-law’s bachelor party?”

“I’m your only son-in-law.” Elijah chuckles.

My dad pats him on the back. The mutual admiration they have for each other is always evident, and in ways, I’m envious of the relationship they have because all I ever seem to do with my father is butt heads. I turn away, not wanting to be caught looking.

It’s been months since I have seen Dad. In true Andrew style, he hasn’t aged one bit. He looks to be in his forties, at best, even though he’s in his mid-fifties. His brown hair is still slicked back in the same style it has been for years, his emerald-colored eyes an exact match to mine. He turns my way with a slow and steady gait.

“Son, nice to see you.” He extends his hand, and I shake it like it’s a fucking business meeting.

“Dad, always a pleasure.”

“So, I hear the merger at Lexed was quite a success. Well done.”

“We are where we projected we’d be. Even better, actually.”

“Your dedication has paid off. Your sister tells me you’ve been spending quite a lot of time in New York.”

I’m certain he knows. Adriana tells my parents everything. She can’t keep a secret to save her life. Hence, why she’s their favorite. There’s no avoiding this. Watching him furtively, I can’t believe we are back to talking about this subject again. We never saw eye to eye about Charlotte, and as far as my father is concerned, I broke marriage vows, and that’s the crux of it.

“Just spit it out, Dad. What do you want to know?” I throw back whatever liquor is inside the glass in front of me, wiping my mouth as I finish. Turning to face him, I stare into his judgmental eyes. “That I saw Charlotte again? That she looks utterly amazing? That she’s successful and moved on?”

“I’m glad she’s doing well,” he mentions, calmly. “She always was a smart one.”

“Seriously, Dad, that’s all you’re going to say?”

“Lex, what would you like me to say?”

“I don’t know. That I should leave her alone? That I shouldn’t have started all this shit again?”

“You’re a grown man. What you do with your life is your decision.”

Laughter erupts inside my head. The hypocrisy, years later, from a man who controlled my life when I needed to make it out on my own. Now it’s my decision? How very parental of him.

“Funny, because that advice is nine years too late. Maybe if you let me make my own decisions back then, I wouldn’t be living this fucking nightmare right now.”

“Son, listen to me—”

His sentence is cut off as Rocky enters the room. “I’m here, motherfuckers!”

Rocky cowers as soon as he catches wind of my dad standing next to me.

“Oh, sorry, Mr. E.”

“Rocky, please, your language doesn’t offend me. Besides, it’s a bachelor party. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Shit,” he mouths with a grin. “Then let’s get this motherfucking party started.”

Rocky walks over to the sound system and cranks up some music, Sir Mix-A-Lot’s ‘Baby Got Back’ begins to play loudly. As the beats plays, Rocky makes himself designated bartender for the night.

We are in trouble.

“A toast to Elijah, Mr. Kama Sutra himself. Oh, shit, sorry, Mr. E!” Rocky blurts out realizing his Kama Sutra comment may not have gone down well with my dad.

“Please, call me Andrew.” He taps on his chest as the aftermath of the shot settles. “Damn, it’s been years since I’ve had one of these. Not since the night Emily and I—”

“Oh, hell no, Dad,” I’m quick to interrupt him, scowling at the thought. “That’s some fucked-up shit. Please don’t bring up stories about Mom.”

“C’mon, Lex, Elijah said your mom’s a MILF.” Rocky chuckles.

“I did not!”

Elijah’s face turns completely red. I didn’t know whether to feel sorry for him or punch his goddamn face.

“Well, I don’t blame you. She still knows how to…” My dad trails off as my eyes widen in disgust. “Sorry, son, no more talk about Mom.

“We can talk about Charlie, then.” Rocky elbows Dad with a smirk. “Will that be more suitable?”

All eyes fall on me, aside from Elijah’s friends and cousins who are on the balcony talking to the waitresses. It’s the last thing I want to talk about. I grab the bottle of Patron in front of me and pour a double shot. It burns but eases the hurt lingering inside of me. I bang the glass on the countertop, pouring another. Rocky looks at my father who just sits there, amused.

“What exactly do you want to talk about, Rocky? The way I fucked her on her desk or the way she fucked me on mine? Tell me, I’m sure you’ll have a good old laugh.” My tone is bitter. No matter what, I can’t escape her, but I have to try because I can’t go on like this, trapped in a nightmare. I’ve done this too many times to count, and the result is never good.

“Dude, look, I’m sorry.”

“I didn’t think so.”

This party has hit a low point. I grab the bottle and pour the remaining shots. Placing my arm around Elijah’s shoulder, I make a toast. “To Elijah. Thank fuck, I can officially hand over my sister to you. Cheers!”

We raise our glasses, then swallow the drink.

The night kicks off with the guys playing poker and the topless waitresses serving us buffalo wings and other deep-fried wonders. After losing a thousand bucks to the nerdy sci-fi dude, I grab a beer this time and walk onto the balcony.

The view is impressive. The swimming pool is illuminated in bright blue as the LED lights surround it, and not so far in the distance, the rest of Vegas twinkles in the night.

As I lean against the glass railing, the dry Vegas heat does nothing to cure my wandering thoughts. The heat, compared to London’s chilly air, is extremely uncomfortable.

“So, it’s a touchy subject, then.” Dad is leaning his elbows on the railing beside me, scotch in hand as he stares into the night just like me.

“Look, Dad, there’s nothing left to say. It’s over between us.”

“Never figured you for a quitter.”

His words sting. I’m not a quitter, but I’m also not going to stand by and be second best. Where the hell is this coming from? From him, of all people?

“Can’t always have what you want.”

“So, you want her, then?”

“Dad, just drop the charade. You never liked her… you were never shy to admit that. It’s over between us. Nothing more left to be said. We tried again, and it didn’t work. It’s just not meant to happen.”

He takes a swig of his scotch, the stench lingering in the air between us.

“Did I ever tell you the story about how your mother and I met?”

“No,” I mumble.

“I was quite a womanizer back in the day. I spent most of my late teens screwing everything in sight. When I went to college, I used the whole doctor thing to my advantage. Worked like a charm with the ladies.” He smiles as if remembering the time so fondly. “So, one day I met this girl, Cassandra. She tamed me. I studied hard, and she was everything the other girls weren’t, so I proposed, and she said yes. On the night of our engagement party, I finally met her family. I was freaking out over meeting her parents, so it never occurred to me that it was her sister I should be worried about.”

Taking a step back, I tilt my head to the side. “Holy shit, are you talking about Aunt Cassie?”

“Yes. Her sister, your mother, was the most beautiful woman I had ever met in my life. The moment I saw her, I was in awe. Drove me crazy. She was shy but so unbelievably kind-hearted. I fell in love. We started seeing each other behind Cassie’s back, but one day we were caught, and all hell broke loose. Emily was disowned by her family and the whole town. It was hell.”

Unable to string a sentence together, I try to absorb this new information. My parents always seemed drama-free, and to think all along, they started a sordid affair just like me.

“But worth going to hell and back?” I question, raising my brows.

“Worth every second, but son, I didn’t want that for you or Charlie.” Letting out a heavy sigh, his stare falls to his feet. “I thought I was doing you a favor. I thought you’d get over it.”

“But I didn’t.”

“No…” He lowers his voice. “You didn’t.”

The revelation of his intentions left us with an awkward silence. I never truly understood why my parents meddled in my life and made decisions, which in hindsight, were mistakes. I understand now why my dad wants to protect me having been in a similar situation, but no one else can ever understand how much I loved Charlotte back then. And that, alone, should’ve been the very reason I fought everyone to keep her in my life.

But I didn’t. I was a coward, and nothing will ever change that.

Our momentary silence is short-lived as Rocky runs onto the balcony squealing like a woman. “She’s here, she’s here!”

With Rocky, it only means one thing—stripper.

We sit at the bar when suddenly we hear the crack of a whip. Holy fuck, what the hell? Elijah is waiting, holding his breath, worry plastered on his face. The crack of the whip the second time echoes throughout the room.

“My name is Madame Kiska,” she growls in a dominant tone.

Her thick Russian accent is somewhat sexy. Kiska sounds familiar, then I laugh to myself. Kiska means pussy in Russian. She’s Madame Pussy. Rocky sits wide-eyed and ready for whatever she will dish out, Elijah the complete opposite. She runs her finger along Elijah’s jaw, the latex making a slight sound. Cupping his chin, she squeezes it tight and whispers something in his face before slapping him.

I struggle to hold in my laughter, but her icy stare puts me in my place. Rocky sits there like he has ants in his pants. The music plays, and she does her act on each one of us. The alcohol keeps coming, and much to my amusement, even my dad participates. He laughs as she cracks her whip, and I can swear on my life she breaks out of character a few times and smiles at him. Elijah’s friends enjoy themselves—these guys probably never got laid. One of them keeps rubbing his crotch, no shit, his hard-on pointed out like an eyesore. I swear, a fucking bunch of geeks.

Me, well, I just miss her.

Nothing in this world, no other woman can compare to my girl.

Her lips, her scent, just her.

I close my eyes knowing I can’t go there, so I grab the closest bottle to me which happens to be vodka and take a swig. Motherfucking fuck. I let out a loose cough as it makes its way down.

With that feeling of being watched, I scan the room, and standing by the large glass doors is my father watching me intently. He shows no sign of emotion on his face. Taking a drink, he looks at his phone and grins as he types something. I walk over with my bottle of vodka, discarding the glass and calling it mine.

“What’s got you so happy?” I ask miserably.

“Just a text I got.”

I know that look. It’s the kind of look I get when Charlotte texts me. Fuck! What the fuck!

“What the hell, Dad?”

“Relax, it’s your mother. I can show you the text if you want.”

“No, I’m good, thanks. Fuck, you two are a couple of freaks.”

He grins foolishly. After thirty fucking something years together, he’s still in love. I should be praising him, but knowing Mom is on the other end probably sending him dirty texts is enough to make me shudder.

“Anyway, I’m heading off. Got me a date with my freak.”

“Date? Mom’s in Vegas?”

“No, son. It’s called Skype. Maybe you should use it sometime.” He pats me on the back and says goodbye.

Even my dad is getting laid more than me. I need a mind erasure as quickly as possible. The vodka bottle is nearly empty and what better opportunity to see what Madame Kiska is up to. Not surprised one bit, I walk out to the main living area to find Rocky in his boxers, hands cuffed, and feet chained. She runs her whip along his torso as he mouths off vulgar words at her.

“You keep your mouth shut, you understand? Only Madame Kiska can speak!” Her accent is strong as her whip cracks along the floor.

“Hey, Rocky, how about a selfie for Nikki?”

“Yeah, yeah! C’mon, Rocky!” Elijah slurs his words. His Elvis suit is still on, but for some reason, he’s wearing aviator shades even though it’s almost midnight. Fuck, Adriana is gonna kill me. He’s beyond wasted.

“Nah, fuck, guys, don’t! She’ll fucking have my balls.”

“Thought she already did.” I chuckle.

Elijah grabs the keys that hang on the back of Madame Kiska’s belt, much to her disapproval. He dangles them in front of her, Rocky begging someone to un-cuff him. I hold my phone up ready to take a picture.

“C’mon, Elijah,” I roar. “This pussy needs a selfie.”

“I’m serious, you guys. Don’t you fucking dare. She’ll have your balls, too.”

Elijah continues to dangle the keys, but Rocky being double his size, attempts to reach out for them, knocking them out of Elijah’s hands. I scramble for them as they fall to the floor. Now, this is fucking fun. I throw them to Elijah as he catches them with two hands. Rocky continues to beg, but this is way more entertaining. Elijah tells me to go long, and before I know it, I’m standing near the doorway.

“Leexxx, this one is to win the Super Bowl.” He throws the keys with force. In my intoxicated state, I pretend to leap like a football player but miss as we watch the keys fall into the pool.

“What the fuck!” Rocky’s girly scream echoes in the room.

Elijah and I run over to the pool, scratching our heads in unison.

Elijah stares blankly into the pool. “I guess they’re gone.”

“You guess they are gone?” Rocky repeats.

“Dude… you’re screwed.” I break out into hysterics, Elijah following me.

“Get the fucking keys!”

“All right, keep your panties on.”

It’s a warm night, and without even realizing I’m fully dressed, I dive into the pool. I search the bottom as much as I can, given my state of intoxication I am barely able to see straight.

I come up for air. “Sorry, it’s gone. I’m sure she has another set.”

We run inside to find Madame Kiska. She’s rubbing her tits in that geek’s face. We interrupt the floor show to ask about the keys. She cracks her whip at the interruption until she realizes what we said. “No, I don’t have another set. Why the hell did you guys do that?” Her accent disappears and is more notably replaced with a southern twang.

We explain the story again hoping it makes sense, forcing her to pull out the spares.

“These are real cops’ handcuffs,” she panics, shuffling off the geek.

Lifting Rocky’s wrist, she points to the handcuffs where LAPD is engraved on the side.

“Shit, dude.” I whistle at the predicament. “I heard only cops have the master key.”

“We can’t go to the cops,” she almost cries. “They’ll ask me where I got them from.”

“Where did you get them from?” the three of us ask.

“Long story. My ex, pimp, or whatever you want to call him, was in the LAPD.”

“So, you stole them?” Elijah confirms, keeping a straight face.

“Stole, borrowed, same difference.”

“I don’t give a goddamn fuck about you, woman. I need these cuffs off, and you’re coming with us to the police station.”

An hour later, the four of us enter the police station—the handcuffee, the Madame, Elvis, and me dressed in normal attire but still soaking wet from my dive in the pool.

“So, how can I help you gentlemen and madame tonight?” the cop behind the desk asks.

Elijah clears his throat. “We kinda handcuffed my friend.”

“Uh-huh, so why not get a pair of bolt cutters?” the cop questions.

We look at each other, neither one of us wanting to talk.

Rocky breaks the silence. “Um… they kinda belong to the LAPD…”

The cop walks around the desk and lifts Rocky’s wrist. “Do you realize it’s a federal offense to steal property from the police?”

“Yes, sir,” we answer with our heads bowed.

“Who do they belong to?”

The three of us swing our heads to face whatever her name is. She remains silent until she caves under our glare.

“Mine, but I can explain,” she wails.

“Go ahead.”

She explains the story, the cop barely buying it. The longer she drags the story, the deeper in shit we all become.

“You know that you should be all doing a night behind bars for this offense?” His tone is deadly serious.

Oh fuck. The slammer? Fucking Rocky and Elijah. This isn’t on my bucket list. I can see the sweat dripping off Rocky and Elijah’s foreheads. If it weren’t for the alcohol, I probably would be panicking the same.

“Do you think this is the first time I have seen this?” asks the cop.

“Uh, no, sir, I mean yes, sir…” Rocky answers nervously.

“Well, which one is it?”

“I don’t know, sir.”

The cop laughs, shaking his head. “You out-of-towners are no different from the rest of them.”

As soon as I realize he isn’t serious, I break out in a small smile. The cop takes out his key to undo the handcuffs, and I get an idea.

“Sir, can I ask you for a small favor first?”

The cop stares at me strangely.

Moments later, Elijah holds up the mug shot board with some random number next to Rocky as I take the picture.

I hit send.

“You’re dead meat.”

It takes not even a minute for my phone to ring, so I press the speaker button when I answer the call.

“What the fuck is my husband doing in jail, Edwards!”

I fall to the floor in hysterics along with Elijah. Unable to breathe from Nikki’s continuous cussing, she finally threatens Elijah that she will tell Adriana everything. It’s contagious. Soon the whole room is laughing, including Rocky.

It will definitely be a night to remember.

***

The next week is mainly spent in meetings and fighting every battle under the sun. Suddenly, work has become insane, and I’m putting in eighteen-hour days if not more. In the past week alone, I flew to Chicago, Boston, and Vancouver. I’m due next week to speak at a conference in Paris. I am reluctant to leave London again, just that nagging feeling that something isn’t right.

On a dreary Friday afternoon, the rain is pouring, covering the skyline. Employees start filing out of the boardroom after a presentation on current market trends. Kate sits across from me, fidgeting with her phone and bouncing her feet under the table. Her eyebrows draw together, and every few seconds, she lifts her eyes to look at me only to drop them again moments later. I sit still, tapping my pen on the desk as I watch her with a tight expression.

“I’m waiting…”

She glances up at me. “I’m sorry, sir, it’s just… nothing.”

“Great, well, nothing means you can get back to your desk and finalize the travel arrangements for Paris.”

Hesitating, I wait as she looks ready to open her mouth, but instead, she walks away, closing the door behind her.

It happens again, twice, then I call her back into my office. Seriously, what the fuck is wrong with her? By the fourth time, I’ve had enough.

“Kate, tell me what the hell is wrong that’s making you so unproductive today?”

“Excuse me, sir?”

“Whatever it is, you’ve tried to tell me four times in the past hour. Let me guess, you’re handing in your resignation?”

“Oh no! I enjoy my job… somewhat.”

“Okay, then what? I’m not a mind reader, and you’re wasting my time.”

She shuffles her feet, wringing her palms. With her head bowed, she mumbles something.

“I can’t hear you. Speak up.”

“Charlie’s in the hospital.”

“What?”

“She was admitted a few hours ago. She’s been very ill lately, but then she collapsed and had trouble breathing. Eric called me.”

“And no one thought to call me?”

“Sir, the history, you know—”

“I’m her fucking husband!”

“Excuse me, husband? I don’t even know where to begin with—”

“Book the next flight for me.”

Overwhelmed with panic, I grab my phone and dial Nikki’s number.

Voicemail.

I dial Adriana.

Voicemail.

I try every fucking person in New York.

Voicemail.

My grip tightens on my phone as I press it against my forehead, willingly my eyes to close. My chest begins to tighten, terrified of what state she’s in, my imagination running wild with possibilities.

Kate returns fifteen minutes later with my flight details. The plane is leaving in two hours from a different wing as she’s booked a private plane. I don’t care about the cost, I need to get back to the States now.

The hours pass by in a blur. Occasionally, I nod off, but my mind refuses to shut down. Still haven’t heard from anyone, and this cold-shoulder nonsense will be the death of me.

It’s just after midnight when I run through the doors of the hospital. The nurses quietly sit behind the desk. They see me and immediately tell me, “No visitors.”

I throw some money at them to which they demand even further that I leave. One goes as far to call security, not that I care. A doctor walks past, and I grab him by the coat, begging him for answers, for anything.

“So, you must be the boyfriend?” he questions, looking at the chart.

“Husband,” I correct.

“She was admitted this afternoon with breathing difficulties. Chest X-rays found she has a collapsed lung caused by pneumonia. She’s severely dehydrated, so we have her on an IV and a mild sedative to help her sleep. I think your biggest concern must be the baby. We ran the tests, and all is well.”

The medical jargon isn’t lost on me, but my body stiffens, paralyzed with the one word he said. Did I hear correctly? You can’t have heard that. You haven’t slept properly, and your mind is completely fucked.

I rub my ear, making sure it’s clear. “Excuse me… repeat the last part?”

“We ran the tests, and all is—”

“No,” I berate him. “The bit before that.”

“Your concern for the baby?” He quirks his brow. “Sir, are you okay?”

My eyes widen, the blood draining from my face. I grab the chart and find the room number—eight.

I almost gravitate to her room until I’m standing inside watching her lay on the bed with her head facing the other way. I fall on my knees beside her, hold onto her hand, placing it against my mouth. The smell of her skin is enough for me to break down inside. I miss her like fucking crazy, and now she’s carrying my baby.

Charlotte is carrying my baby.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the baby?”

I remain by her side, clutching onto her hand like my life depends on it. Only the persistent sounds of the monitors beeping, the glorious sounds of life, echo in the room. In the dark of the night, the stark white walls and linen can’t be seen, only the warmth that radiates off her skin, but that’s all I need—her and now our baby.

A baby.

The word replays over and over in my head. A human being is growing inside her that’s half Charlotte and half me.

My emotions are scattered. I’m not ready to be a dad, but then part of me knows I’ll have Charlotte for the rest of my life, and we will raise our own family and grow old together.

That part of me outweighs all the anxiety I feel.

Unable to hold back a smile, I mouth the words to myself.

A baby.

I need her to wake up, so I can tell her I was wrong for saying I was done. I love her so much, and now that she’s carrying my baby, I want nothing more than to take her home and spend the rest of my life with her and our child.

On the bed, she continues to lay perfectly still, almost in a catatonic state until a slight whimper escapes her lips. My eyes search her face for something, but all I see is a blank stare until she turns her head further in the opposite direction.

I wait with bated breath for her to speak, for any words to ease my worry.

“I didn’t tell you, Lex, because… because it’s not yours.”